


Getting To Know You

by dramatisecho



Series: 1-Sitting One-Shots [1]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Normal Wade, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter is still a hero, Scarred Peter, Wade is Being an Asshole, Wade is kind of a hero, sad feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6749179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramatisecho/pseuds/dramatisecho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade endures Weapon-X and jumpstarts his mutation, but is able to heal his skin condition - and turn back to normal, with the added benefit of his rad new abilities! He enjoys his fame, and borders between being a hero and being a merc-for-hire. In between all that, he flirts with Spiderman... a straight-up hero. But he never talks about himself. And Wade's never seen his face. THAT has to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

 

Wade collapsed on the bed – panting and breathing heavily; remnants of his costume strewn across the room. He peered up at the ceiling, noticing the shadow of his mask (which hand landed precariously atop the lamp on the nightstand) peering back at him... almost appearing to smile.  
  


“Fuckin' A...” he huffed. A satisfied smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth.  
  


The gorgeous girl to his left was already babbling something about one of her co-workers, [Hey, wasn't she a stripper?] (Strippers can have co-workers!) {He's right. It's just very PC of us to call them that.} [Jesus. We're a catch, aren't we?] (Holla!). She was typing away on her cellphone, still breathing rather hard herself, looking like a complete, debauched mess.  
  


[Oh no.] (Yup. Here it comes!!) {You owe me twenty bucks.} Wade glanced over, watching as the girl predictably extended her arm, plastered a 'sexy pout' on her lips, and took a selfie. [Were we in shot?] (Hell yes we were!) {I think that's the point, genius.} He couldn't complain, though. He'd gotten quite the rep as Deadpool. He wasn't like the other 90% of “costumes” in the great NY area; he didn't hide his identity, or who he was.  
  


On the contrary, it was his identity that _made_ him who he was. Starting from a simple, but respectable, reputation as 'gun for hire'... he would intimidate, fuck with, kill, anyone you paid him to. Though he'd been known to have a bit of a soft spot for the more innocent civilians who came to him in their greatest moments of desperation. Women who were being physically abused, children who were getting hurt, stalkers, bullies. Y'know, real creeps who he was all too happy to put in their place. Those ones – he did for free. Why not? He made enough money to support himself. Why not do something good once in a while to boost his self-esteem _and_ further drive the point that he 'wasn't really a bad guy'. 

  
Pretty good gig.  
  


Then the cancer happened. Then the end of  _that_ life. Wade had joined Weapon X in the hopes of curing himself – gotten the shit beat, tortured, and experimented out of him – and come out of it a Legend; the perfect jumpstart to his mutation... his aid in the destruction of the very place that did this to him... and the birth of Deadpool.   
  


He'd returned to New York with a bang, adopting his new alias to seek revenge over all those who'd wronged him. The city seemed to clash between loving and hating him. Some thought he was “awesome” and "not hurting anyone who didn't deserve to get hurt”. He went after the baddies; the same men he'd worked for and dealt with in his old life. He still took hired contracts sometimes (for the right amount of moola), but kept a weak code of: never whacking innocent civilians. He at least was able to draw the line there.  
  


And that mindset had won him a very unlikely fandom. People who seemed to think that was entirely logical, given the hand Wade had been dealt. What he, and others, had been exposed to.   
  


Then, of course, the other side – citizens and officials who _hated_ and despised him. Calling him dangerous [Fair.] (Totes.) {You are a wee bit unhinged.}, or a menace, or destructive, or crazy. None of which Wade could  _really_ argue with. He hadn't really done himself any favours by “scaring off” the few officers who had tried to arrest him that one time. Not hiding his real identity meant those fuckers had showed up at his door a few times, foolishly thinking that Wade Wilson would go quietly, unlike Deadpool.  
  


That's when the city learned the two were, surprise surprise, the SAME person. 

  
He'd chased off the cops with a few slices of his katana... and that was that. He was considered armed and dangerous, but was unable to be apprehended. Weird, right? They didn't like him, they considered him a threat – but because they weren't getting calls about innocent people being directly harassed by him, SHIELD (and anyone important) seemed to turn a blind eye.  
  


He was too scary for the local police to handle, but anyone further up on the chain couldn't be bothered to give a shit... because (Wade supposed): bag guys had to get got.  
  


Might not be ethical, but hey. Who at the end of the day was going to be crying about some vigilante... “slicing the head off that aggressive, violent drug-dealer who also happened to be your landlord, and squeezing you for every penny you had?”  
  


No one.   
  


He had a pretty fucking amazing life. Case in point? The stripper next to him. His sexlife alone had increased a billion percent. Hot chicks really liked to brag about getting to 'fuck Deadpool, the dangerous, sexy Merc with the Mouth'. He was a motherfucking buff, gruff, wittier version of Ryan Reynolds. Eat your heart out...  
  


Wade swung his legs out of the bed, and stood up with a stretch before beginning to gather up his things and get dressed.   
  


“...You're not staying?” the stripper asked, [Wait, what was her name?] (CANDY!) {No, it wasn't. You're just inserting a stereotypical-stripper-name.} [And what's wrong with that?] (Yeah, does it really fuckin' matter? You'll never see her again.) {Contestant number 1834 come on dooooown!)  
  


Wade barked out a laugh, “Are you shitting me? What for? You wanna have a deep, meaningful conversation about how 'sliding down the stripper pole is a parallel metaphor for how you slid further and further into New York's seedy underground cesspool'... but  _hey_ , at least daddy still pays the rent, and your summer-house in the Hamptons finally got renovated, huh?”  
  


“Fuck you, Wade!” she spat viciously, tossing a small digital alarm clock at him.   
  


He easily sidestepped it with a laugh, and pulled his mask on. He strolled from her bedroom – ignoring her indignant cries of protest, and went to collect his weapons from the living room on his way out. 

  
Yeah... life was pretty good.

  
Except for the fact that he was kinda lonely as fuck...  


 

 

* * *

  
  


It had been a few weeks since he'd seen him.  
  


Wade had been bouncing and darting around the rooftops – doing a few 'errands' and a bit of patrol. Hell, he was bored, and wanted something to distract and entertain him. He'd been at it for about an hour, when that gorgeous red-and-blue spandex-covered ass came into view.  
  


“SPIDEY!” he exclaimed excitedly, dropping onto a neighbouring rooftop to skip over to the other costumed man.

  
Now Spiderman had a similar rep to Deadpool's (though nowhere _near_ as awesome or adored). Half the city seemed to like him, while the other half hated him. He knew Spidey had it a bit harder, since like other heroes, no one knew who he was or what he really looked like. And opposite to Wade, the spider-based hero only did good things. He helped anyone and everyone, and didn't believe in killing to achieve it. 

  
It made Wade both admire and pity him. But mostly admire. And crush on. 

  
He was just so cute; shorter built than him – but toned with lithe, agile muscles. He also had a gorgeous voice. Wade could listen to it for hours. Spidey was equal parts sassy and nerdy when around him. He was the only other hero he'd met who got almost  _all_ of his references and jokes! They'd become friends in a very short amount of time – and now, Deadpool was thrilled each time they bumped into one another (which was happening more and more). They'd even teamed up a few times! Wade had convinced Spiderman to take an Instagram selfie with him after one particular bust; they had posed [Well, Spidey just stood there.] (We through up a peace-sign though!) {Yes, it was very kawaii.} and he'd uploaded it to his account. 

  
It was, to date, his most liked picture on there. [70 million followers, and counting] (FUCK YEAH!) {I think we're beating Selena Gomez.}

  
“ How's it hangin' bro?” he asked, strolling over and raising his fist up. Spiderman seemed to sigh, but pounded his fist against Wade's anyway. “We have to stop meeting like this. We should change it up, sometimes! I'm thinking... a romantic candlelit dinner at Taco Bell. I'm one of their favourite customers. I'm sure they'll let me light some candles in there...” he said confidently, draping his arm around the hero's shoulders.

  
Spiderman gave a small, anxious laugh, “I dunno. It's been a long time since I've hung out with someone outside of work... might be too awkward. Probably best that we keep meeting like this.”

  
“That sounds like a rejection! I'm hurt.” Wade whined, prodding at the other man childishly. “I wanna see what's beneath that sexy spandex. You have such a pure, young voice. I'd be worried you were jailbait, but... the way you look in that suit, and the references you seem to get, indicate you're at least 20 years old. Right?”

  
Spiderman seemed to be smiling beneath his mask, “You're not wrong. Not jailbait.” he nodded, “But definitely not anyone worth looking at. Trust me.”

  
“I would like to be the judge of that.” Wade reached for Spiderman's mask, but the other did a fantastic ninja-esq dodge, and jumped right over his head... flipping over and landing in a classic 'crouched on the ground' superhero pose. “Jeeze. You that agile in the bedroom?” he purred.

  
Spiderman laughed, “ _That's_ none of your business.”

  
“ That's not a no.” Wade tossed back victoriously. He took a seat on the ledge of the building, “Come on, Spidey. I thought we were friends. You know who _I_ am.” 

  
The younger hero tilted his head, standing up straight again, “Wade. Everyone knows who you are. That's your shtick.” 

  
“ It could be yours, too! Imagine. The classic lovable duo of Wade and Insert-Name-Here. Come on, insert-name-here, I know you want to. We're this generation's Batman and Robin.”

  
Spiderman made his way back toward the Merc to sit with him, “It's nice you think that. But seriously. You don't wanna see what's beneath this mask. I'm no Andrew Garfield.”

  
“Ooooh... sounds like someone called you that one time, and now it's your frame of reference when trying to describe yourself.” Deadpool mused, scooting over to press right up against Spiderman's side. “That makes me wanna see you even more.” His eyes glanced down to see the kid wringing his hands together. It was a subtle movement, but judging by the tension in his fingers and arms, it was more of a sensitive subject than Spidey was letting on. “Y'know, I'll settle for just learning your name, too.”

  
Spiderman froze, but not in a way that implied he was threatened. He seemed to be seriously weighing the pros-and-cons of giving up that bit of information. “Just your first name,” Wade clarified, “Y'know. So I can call you something other than your alias, or... insert-name-here.”

  
His companion chuckled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck in an adorably sheepish gesture. “Yeah... well... guess you're right.” he agreed. Looking up through those big white mask lenses, he continued with, “I'm Peter.”

  
“Petey!” Deadpool boomed, grasping Peter's hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “Nice to meet you. Peter. Pete. Huh. Classic, kinda dorky, I like it. Easy to remember, too.” he rambled.

  
Spiderman laughed and tugged his hand away, “Yes, yes. Hi. Nice to meet you.”

  
“So. Wanna grab some grub, P-Money?” he asked, standing up and trying to urge Peter to do the same.

  
“P-Money?” the younger man huffed, “After all that, you're still just gonna call me nicknames? Lame.”

  
Wade gasped, “It's not lame! I just reserve the right to continue calling you cute, affectionate nicknames, baby boy!” he grinned. “Come on. Let's get some food. I could easily eat, like, 15 tacos right now.”

  
“Sounds nice, but... I really shouldn't. I gotta finish my patrol.” Peter explained. It was an obvious dodge, but Wade knew it was better not to call attention to it. “But next time, ok? Promise.” he approached Wade again, and grabbed the mask that was tucked into his utility belt. Peter tugged it gently back over the Merc's head – hesitating, almost, to let go once he'd done it. Wade could feel the heat from Peter's hands gradually leaking through the material of the mask the longer he kept his hands cupped on either side of his face. 

  
It made his heart do a funny, small somersault in his chest.

_  
Huh..._

  
Wade raised his hands, instinctively wanting to draw Peter into his arms – but the hero suddenly stepped away and out of reach. “See you later, Wade!” he bid happily enough. He launched himself right off the edge of the building – shooting a web and slinging away gracefully. [He's like an air-swan.] (A spider-swan!) {Enough. That sounds terrifying.]

  
“ Rats.” Deadpool grumbled.

  
He was definitely getting closer to learning who his adorable Spider was. A first name was a good start! Plus, it would make masturbating  _much_ easier. Gripping his dick, stroking intensely, and muttering 'Spiderman' ended up making him laugh more often than not. Harder to get-off when he was giggling the entire time. 

  
“ Peter...” he murmured fondly to himself.   
  


[Yup.] (He's got it baaaad.) {Definitely smitten.}

 


	2. The Middle

Seven months.  
  
November 17  th  .  
  
  
The first day - since enduring the Weapon X program – that Wade Wilson _wanted_ to die.

  
And not just die. He wanted to burn to death, get beheaded, drown, freeze, or become incinerated by a crazy laser-gun into dust...  
  
  
The day he destroyed Peter's feelings.

  
That night had started off easily enough. He and Peter had begun teaming up more and more – their partnership and friendship stronger than ever. They had stopped and bagged some pretty bad dudes, and were partaking in their usual gab-fest atop a building in Brooklyn. Wade already had his mask off, rambling about the way Peter had strung up those two robbers in such a 'dinner-for-later' type of Spider fashion.  
  
It was only part way through his marathon of jabbering that Wade noticed Peter was fairly quiet. And actually, had been staring at him quite steadily since they'd stopped to rest on the roof. “What's up, baby boy? You're giving me those big doe eyes you know I love.” he teased.

He was sure that if Peter hadn't been wearing his mask, there would've been a blush on his cheeks.

“I was just- ... I've been thinking...” Peter began, taking a shaky breath, but obviously trying to gather up his courage. “We've- ... well, you and I have been friends for a while now. You're one of the few people I trust in this entire city. And the more we work together and spend time together, I just keep thinking that I'd like to spend _more_ time together. I- ... it would be cool to hang out someplace that's not a rooftop, and maybe not in costume.”

Wade let out a fairly emasculating squeak, and pressed his hands together, “Oh. Em. Gee! Are you gonna show me who you are?? This is a build up, right?!” he was almost vibrating with anticipation.

“Just- .. .shut up for a second,” Peter laughed, shaking his head. “I'm getting to that.” he took another pause, this one lasting a bit longer, before he lifted his head to look at Wade again. “Look, I want to trust you. I think I _can_ trust you. And... every resource I have is telling me to just _tell_ you everything, and show you the real me.” he said – voice only sounding slightly hesitant toward the end.

The Merc nodded quickly, managing to keep his mouth shut. After all, the less he talked, the easier it would be for Peter to reveal himself.

The young hero nodded back, taking another few breaths. Slow and steady. “Alright, so...” he reached up, and grasped the bottom of his mask. “Wade Wilson, I'm... Peter Parker.” Peter peeled his mask away, and met Wade's gaze for the first time; a shy smile brushing across his lips.

Wade was speechless. And staring. And he was pretty sure his mouth was open.

“OH my GOD! What the fuck happened to your face!?” he burst out – unable to tear his eyes away.

Peter looked... well, like shit. His skin was bumpy and knotted; gnarled, almost, like someone had run a lawn mower over his entire face. There were odd discoloured patches too, like he'd been some kind of recovering burn victim. He had erratic, kind of fluffy brown hair and deep brown eyes, but both of those came secondary to the textures of skin screaming at the forefront.

“Andrew Garfield you are NOT, that's for sure. Oh! Maybe the lovechild of Andrew Garfield and Freddy Kruger!” Wade crowed and laughed again, “Seriously, why do you _look_ like that? It's like... your superhero name should be Rasin-Face, not Spider-Man.”

His eyes were so busy roving over the exposed skin covering Peter's face, that when he finally looked in Peter's eyes again... he saw those brown orbs shimmering with welled up tears.

Wade abruptly stopped laughing.

He watched, in the briefest of seconds, as Peter's face went to devastatingly heartbroken – to furious, embarrassed rage.

The hero quickly yanked his mask back down over his head, and darted off. He was so fast that Wade didn't even have time to bring himself back from his initial shock before Peter had swung off. Disappearing.

“...Shit.” he swore, mind furiously running over the last few minutes.

He had NOT been expecting that. Out of all the outcomes Wade had imagined after finally getting to see Peter's face – being confronted by a physically deformed boy had _not_ been one of them. The sound of Peter's melodically smooth sassy voice, his overall build. Nope. Wade had been expecting to see a hot piece of ass under that spandex. Not someone covered in... scars.

[Damn. Really wanted him to be hot.] (I dunno, I didn't think it was _that_ bad. He's still kinda fit body-wise!) {Yeah, but that _face_ .} [Right. Can't sleep with someone who's not as hot as us.] (You think his whole body looks like that?) {Without a doubt.} [It would be like sleeping with a raisin.] (Eeeeeew raisins!)

Wade scoffed, and shook his head.

This didn't bother him. So what? Peter looked like a raisin. It might not have been the ideal way to react, but shit, they teased each other all the time. Pete would get over it. He was sure they'd be pairing up and fighting crime and back to their regularly scheduling programming in no time!...

 

Except they weren't.

 

It was December. Nearly a month after Peter's unmasking. And Wade still hadn't seen Spiderman around. Not once.

 

He heard of him; the kid made the news a few times, as his heroic rescues didn't seem to slow down or miss a beat. But try as he might, Deadpool wasn't able to find or see Peter. Not even in passing. For the first little while, the Merc had tried to convince himself it didn't matter. But the more he thought about it, the more he replayed that fateful night in his head.

[You know, it was brave. What he did.] (Yeeeeeah, it was.) {He trusted you.}

Sometimes Wade hated those voices in his head. So encouraging and spiteful one moment, before turning into guilt-trippers the next.

[He liked you, and took off his mask to show you who he was. And you made him feel bad about it.] (His skin _was_ weird, but it wasn't _that_ bad! I said that from the get-go!) {Not everyone can be hot.}

Wade ignored the jabs of guilt for as long as he could before he decided to just apologize to Peter. He wanted things back the way they were, and fuck... he _missed_ Peter.

They had been friends. And while Wade could be surrounded by admirers, well wishers, and people wanting to get into his pants... he'd only really considered _Peter_ as a true friend. Someone he could always talk to. Someone who made him feel not-so-lonely in the crowd. Someone who knew him, and that he could be himself around.

[Isn't that nice? You could be yourself around Peter.] (Yeah.) {Too bad you wouldn't grant him the same.}

“Shut _up_.” he hissed to himself.

He could fix this. He could get things back to what they were, and keep Peter in his life with a little damage control.

The first step was using his Sherlock-esq detective skills to find out who Peter Parker was. Where he lived. What he did. All that good stuff.

It was a fuck-ton harder than he expected. He'd checked with local universities and colleges first, but no dice on any of their files. He then checked for relatives, histories of 'Parkers' but there were a whole lotta people with that last name in this city alone.

Then he came to an article about a fire. Some house in a residential area burning to the ground... “May Parker, 70, perished. Nephew Peter Parker, severely burned and taken to hospital.” ...wasn't expected to live... blah blah blah. _Huh. Interesting._ Knowing that could very well be part of the horrible-looking-skin origin story, Wade continued searching along with that thread of knowledge to discover Peter's acutal mother and father had died in some freak accident. It read as being a bit suspicious, but given how long ago it was – Wade doubted anyone had dug a bit further. “Leaving behind one son, sent to live with relatives Ben and May Parker... blah blah blah...” And then another article, stating one “Ben Parker, gunned down by fleeing bank thieves, grieving family members May Parker and nephew Peter, blah blah blah.”

[He's lost a lot of people.] (AND his looks!) {Double whammy.}

And yet, here he was. Donning a costume, swinging around the city, and helping countless others.

Yup. Wade felt like the world's biggest asshole.

This poor kid had bared himself to him – _trusted him_ – and Wade had just laughed in his face, and made fun of something which probably brought him a great deal of misery.

But all that still didn't give him a clue as to where Peter was now.

There were no further articles or mention of what happened to Peter after the fire. No record of him attending school, or anything. He even went as far as to visit the home listed as being claimed by the fire (Peter's last known address), but some other family with three children was occupying the rebuilt house now.

These dead ends and empty leads made not being able to find or see Peter all the more frustrating. Wade had become a man on an entirely different mission; not one steeped in revenge or violence, but one of deep regret. A mission to make things right, and win back the companionship of a young man he was incredibly fond of.

Maybe more than fond.

His patience had almost completely run out... when December 21 st  happened.

His first glimpse of Spiderman in just over a month.

Wade almost screamed in glee, but managed to barely contain himself as he quickly followed after the web-head. His heart was pounding in his chest as he ~~stalked~~ tailed the young hero all the way to a sketchy little warehouse port area, in Vinegar Hill, just by and below the Manhattan bridge. Wade frowned, and tilted his head. Was he going to catch some kind of shady drug unit? Or bust in on an arms deal?

Deadpool lagged behind a bit, watching as the agile Spider landed on a shitty looking building. He crawled alongside the wall, before slipping into a dark glass-less window and disappearing out of sight. The place was definitely abandoned. Unfinished and the interior bitch-black from here. Wade took his time getting over to the building, but instead, looked to enter it from the ground floor so as not to give himself away. He easily broke through the locked gates that fenced the property away from the surrounding streets, and headed up to the main doors. They were all boarded up with cautionary signs and 'plans pending approval' construction notices. So, Wade managed to climb up a few flights until he was able to pull himself up and into one of the closest windows.

The whole place was cold (duh, it _was_ December), dank, and dusty. Eerily quiet, aside from some distant (very distant) sounds of traffic, or the passing shipping boats. Wade tried to be extra cautious, and put all his senses on high alert as he crept through the building.

He explored and sneaked up eight different floors before getting to the ninth – where he heard the faint sound of music. He froze and listened – tilting his head as his brain scrambled to determine where exactly it was coming from. He moved down the hall, passing several open dark rooms before he spotted a sliver of warm light peeking out from the next corner.

Wade stepped over to it and turned, looking into the new space that was exposed to him.

It was messy, but not... dirty, per say. There were hundreds of books stacked around, some strewn onto the floor; combined with some comic books and newspapers. There was a broken skateboard off to the side, along with a few civilian clothes piled up in the corner. A few boxes here and there. A school desk with a tiny lamp on it that was currently illuminating the room (the only source of light). There was an iPhone on the desk, though it was clearly a very outdated model, playing soft music.

All this atmosphere, of course... was overshadowed by the webs.

So. Many. Webs.

The walls were practically coated in them; the nooks and crannies of the room had more draped webbing (perhaps to further insulate the room to keep it warm from the otherwise cold-chill that enveloped the rest of the dilapidated building). Some were strung like hammocks along the ceiling; holding in more odds and ends, other books, bits of clothing or scrounged up nicknacks.

A true, living Spider's den if ever there was one. Even the mattress and blankets in the corner were suspended by a series of webs, that cradled and held them off the dingy cement floor.

Peter _lived_ here.

 

“Wade?!”

 

The shocked yell broke him out of his daze, and the Merc looked up to see Peter at the other side of the room, coming back in front a different doorway. He was maskless, but still had his Spiderman suit on. His face looked completely shocked and horrified for a brief second, before his expression warped into pure anger. The kid darted across the room, and yanked his mask back on as fast as he could. “What the fuck are you doing here, Wade?! Get out!” he screamed.

“..Peter.”

“GET _OUT_ , WADE!” he yelled again, storming over to begin pushing and shoving Deadpool as aggressively as possible, “GET OUT! GO AWAY! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”

He sounded hysterical. So full of hurt and loathing that Wade's heart broke even more. “Peter.” he tried again, calmly.

But the hero wouldn't listen. He began to punch and push Wade; connecting his hands with whatever he could, as hard as he could. And Wade didn't fight back. If Peter wanted to beat the shit out of him... if he _needed_ an outlet... then fuck. Wade would let him. He owed him that much.

And while Peter began to swing at him, Wade's mind was desperately trying to piece everything together.

“ _How's it hangin' bro?” he asked, strolling over and raising his fist up. Spiderman seemed to sigh, but pounded his fist against Wade's anyway. “We have to stop meeting like this. We should change it up, sometimes! I'm thinking... a romantic candlelit dinner at Taco Bell. I'm one of their favourite customers. I'm sure they'll let me light some candles in there...” he said confidently, draping his arm around the hero's shoulders._

_Spiderman gave a small, anxious laugh, “I dunno. It's been a long time since I've hung out with someone outside of work... might be too awkward. Probably best that we keep meeting like this.”_

It was so glaringly obvious. Knowing what he knew now. Peter didn't hang out with people because of the way he looked.

Peter lived alone, and had for quite some time.

With his disfigurement, the kid no doubt had been forced into these conditions. Isolated like some kind of leper. Wade knew what New York could be like... and people wouldn't hire someone who looked as gnarled as Peter, much less rent him an apartment. Combined with the stares and whispers he likely had to endure any time he went out in public – Wade did not blame him for hiding himself away.

But instead of caving in on himself, or committing suicide, or turning into some hateful villain... this brave, wonderful young man had become a hero. He had donned a costume, and committed himself to helping and saving those in need, despite the very obvious fact that no one had saved him.

Not when he needed it.

A particularly hard punch landed against Wade's masked face, and he collapsed back onto the ground with a groan. Peter swiftly gave him a few pointed kicks to his ribs and back, before he too, crumpled onto the ground to sit. He was panting heavily through his mask – body still tense, but the satisfaction of beating Wade up was clearly evaporating.  
  
Wade didn't say anything yet. Instead, his eyes trailed over a messy pile of magazines on the floor. _Cosmopolitan. Marie-Claire. In Style. Glamour._ It was definitely confusing, as Wade didn't peg Peter as the type to like those kinds of mags. But as he focused on the subjects of each ones – the glimpses of articles that struck him – he realized the common thread...  
  
_How To Tell Him Your Feelings – 10 Ways To Tell if It's Love – Shy? 4 Ways To Tell If He's Into You! - Breaking the Ice: How to Flaunt What You Got.  
_

“...Fuck...” he breathed out.

Beside those, was a stack of actual books. Hard covers and paperbacks with their spines announcing various titles: _You Can Heal Your Life. The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem. Courage to Change. The Confidence Plan: How to Build a Stronger You_... the books went on and on, some still open, or pushed further back and off to the side, with scribbled notations marking some inside pages.

“ _Look, I want to trust you. I think I can trust you. And... every resource I have is telling me to just tell you everything, and show you the real me.” he said – voice only sounding slightly hesitant toward the end._

That's what Peter had said. Every resource I have.

Not “my friends are telling me”... or “everyone I know is telling me”... no.

Magazines. Trashy articles outlining basic information and 'tips' on how he could emotionally express himself. Books on confidence.

How to put his heart on the line.

And Wade had fucking ruined it.

 

He pushed himself up, and turned over to sit on the ground – a bit closer to where Peter had collapsed. His back was to Wade, but the Merc could see the telltale signs; the hunched shoulders, the stuttered breathing, the quiet sobs. Peter was crying his eyes out beneath that mask.

“Peter.” Wade repeated the only word to come out of his mouth since arriving.

The kid still didn't look up, or acknowledge him immediately. But after a few minutes, Wade heard a quiet, muffled, “...Just leave me alone.”

And that was it.

Wade reached over and wrapped his arms around Peter – pulling him back and into his lap, as he hugged him with every bit of strength he had. The young hero didn't even protest. He just sat there like an empty rag-doll.

“You've been left alone long enough, don't y'think?...” he grumbled deep in his chest. All traces of mirth and jokes gone. Wade didn't think he'd ever felt so serious in his entire life. One hand crept up to cradle the back of Peter's head, while his other arm stayed locked around his back, holding him close within the confines of his arms.

“I'm so... _so_ sorry, Peter.” Wade continued quietly. “I shouldn't- ... that was a lousy thing to do. Laughing at you, I mean, after what you did. To what you let me see.” he hesitated for a moment, “That took a shit load of guts. And I clearly didn't deserve to witness it. I was an asshole. A complete, and utter asshole – who definitely doesn't pass the test of being your friend.”

He squeezed his arms tighter around Peter, “But I can't let you go...” he admitted, “I can't stop thinking about you, and I _need_ you to forgive me... so that we can go back to way things were. So I can tell you that I'm kinda, really REALLY sweet on you; that I can't stop thinking about you. That I wanna to make you laugh and smile, and hear you tell me that I'm an idiot - because I never get tired of hearing that - and I wanna eat tacos and have movie marathons. I want to keep you as close as possible, and one day be able to wake up next to you and say, Hey babe; lets go to Coney Island today!" Wade paused,

Peter didn't speak yet, but he did hear a small huff of air pass through his mask; like he'd laughed a little at the rant.

“I fuckin' ruined things, baby boy. I blew it. And I'll do anything to make it up to you.”

He slumped forward, resting his head right against the back of Peter's. They stayed like that, quietly, for almost ten minutes. Neither one speaking, but settling down; Spiderman perched on Deadpool's lap, and encased by his arms in a secure hold.

“...But I'm a freak.”

Hearing the phrase spoken so brokenly from Peter's lips felt like a hot, branding-iron striking and burning a mark right into his heart.

“You're _not_ a freak.” Wade growled angrily, “You're a fucking saint. You're a goddamn angel who has drawn the short end of a stick a few times. That doesn't mean you deserve to suffer alone for this shit.”

Peter didn't say anything. But he did feel the young hero slump back a bit more into his arms. Like he was defeated, or like... a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Wade hugged him tighter, “I'm going to make it up to you, Petey. I'll try real hard to get your trust again. And when you're ready... you can... show me the real you.” he paused, “For now we'll just take it slow, ok baby boy?”

Spiderman nodded.

The pair stayed like that for a good thirty minutes. Wade, surprisingly, wasn't in the mood to talk as he reflected over his relationship with the web-head.

It was Peter who finally broke their silence – asking Wade to leave him alone for a little while so he could clear his head. He also promised to stop avoiding him, on the condition that Wade never follow him home – or drop by uninvited – again.

Deadpool reluctantly agreed, although every instinct in his body was screaming at him to whisk Peter away to a warmer, safer (and happier) location, to stay with him forever. Wade placed an apologetic kiss on the hero's head – mask to mask – before finally taking his leave.

When he got back to his apartment forty-five minutes later – the Merc promptly shot himself in the head.

 

He deserved it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more epilogue-y chapter for this one shot. Not beta'd yet (will come back and edit later)


	3. The End

 

Things slowly.... _very_ slowly... began to get back to normal.

Peter didn't actively avoid him anymore. They saw each other in passing, at first – Wade, on his way to one job or vendetta... Peter, on his patrol. Soon, their banter began to come back in the form of fly-by jokes, or sometimes brief interactions. Then, longer conversations on rooftops or shared tips of their targets. Wade kept up most of the chatter, even slipping in some flirting like he used to, hoping to reestablish their sense of normalcy. Peter seemed hesitant to respond, but eventually began to fall back into their normal rhythm.

And finally, after six (long and agonizing) months, Peter and Wade were back to chilling on the rooftops. They spoke about nothing in particular, or argued  about the latest action movie to be released, and it's accuracy – or a nerdy reference or two that one of them had made. They joked and teased and laughed... it was just like old times!

Which meant it was time for a risk.

Wade showed up one evening – to one of their many meeting spots – holding a big bag of takeaway. “I brought us tacos!” he announced, walking over to where Peter was sitting.

He saw the web-slinger visibly tense; like some kind of skittish spider-fawn ready to bolt. But Wade wasn't going to give him the chance. He dumped one of the bags into Peter's lap, and then proceeded to sit down, facing away from the hero. They were pressed back-to-back, with the Merc leaning his weight onto the younger man, and vice versa.

“Eat up before it gets cold and soggy!” he called over his shoulder, lifting up his mask to begin eating.

As he began to scarf down his own food, Wade remained very much aware of Peter. The kid didn't move much at first, but slowly, he could hear him opening the bag. Followed by the sounds of eating, along with a thankful hum. “...s'good...” the muffled reply came.

Wade smiled to himself. [Great!] (Achievement Unlocked!!) {It's a start, at least...} Getting Peter comfortable with lifting up the bottom of his mask – if _only_ to eat – would help in the long run.

If he ever wanted to see Pete without his mask on again, he'd have to continue rebuilding that trust. Buffing up the cute spider's confidence again.

He continued to bring food to their meet-ups (whenever possible). They would eat and chit-chat, always sitting faced away from one another.

The first time they actually ate side by side Wade hadn't been expecting it. He'd gotten distracted – and had sat on the edge of the rooftop to sort through the takeaway bags, separating his order from Pete's. The web-slinger had sat next to him, and once given his food, had just tore into it; mask rolled up to his nose and eating enthusiastically.

It was really, REALLY fucking hard not to stare once the Merc realized what was happening. And fuck, he wanted to soooo badly. It was the first real glimpse of Peter he'd had since- ... well... since 'that night'. Instead, Deadpool forced himself to keep chattering on, decidedly _not_ looking at Peter while he ate. With their shoulders and sides pressed together, he only looked over to the kid when he saw Pete reach up and tug his mask back down in his peripheral view.

“Eat enough, baby boy?” he asked, crumpling up the paper that had been wrapped around his burger. He tossed it carelessly onto the roof, a few feet away from them.

Peter huffed, “I did, thanks.” he stood up, and walked over to Wade's wrapper, “And don't litter.” he scolded, bending over to pick it up.

“Wooooo there it is! Dat ass...” he cooed excitedly.

Spiderman stood up and turned (probably blushing beneath that mask of his), and laughed awkwardly, “Shut up, you perv.”

 

 

* * *

 

Wade deserved a medal.

One of those big shiney ones.

Well... maybe not a medal. It was his own damn fault that Peter hadn't shown his face again. But still! He was being more patient than he'd _ever_ been... trying to work on getting that trust back any way he could. And 'any way he could' meant letting Peter choose the time and place of his next unveiling.

At that same time, it was driving him absolutely nuts.

He was obsessing over the young hero. He'd even taken to inviting Peter over to his place whenever possible... both, in the hopes of mending their once-broken friendship, _and_ because the thought of such a sweet kid sitting all alone in a shitty building made him want to vomit.

Peter even crashed on his sofa once or twice, but by the time Wade woke up the next morning – the spider had already vacated the premises.

So... what did all this have to do with Wade's current predicament?

Well. He was dying. Again.

He'd gotten sloppy and distracted, thinking about Peter all the time – and had made some careless mistakes in a recent brawl with some dumb-shit baddies.  
  
  
Spiderman had been with him, but to Wade's relief, had come out relatively unscathed. Particularly because the Merc had shielded him from a series of rapid-fire gunshots. After Peter had disabled the gunman - and come back to help Wade with the rest of the group – he was missing an arm. And lots of blood.

Peter had webbed up the rest of the criminals (who were still living), and then web-slung him and Wade back to Wade's apartment in a panic. He kept trying to help him by stopping the bleeding and rifling through the med kit. Wade tried to reassure Peter that it was normal – and that once he died, it would take anywhere from six to ten hours (at most) for him to regenerate.

But the hero wasn't listening. He kept fretting around, trying to make Wade as comfortable as possible.

It was sweet...

Wade passed away while Peter was arguing against the Merc's insistence that he both “not call an ambulance” and “get some food in the meantime” while he was left to die.

 

When he woke up, his apartment was dark; shadows were playing off the ceiling again as he stared up at it. All his limbs were back, and he didn't feel so... hole-y anymore. He could also tell his mask was off, and someone else was in the room-

He turned his head to see Peter, sitting on the floor a foot or so away from him. He wasn't looking at Wade, but...

Yup.

His mask was definitely off.

The Merc could make out that bumpy skin from the streams of streetlight that were flooding into the room. Peter wasn't saying anything; his head was hung low, clearly lost in deep thought. And in all honesty... in complete, total fucking truth... Wade didn't think he'd ever see someone so beautiful.

Scars or not, he could see the lines of Peter's face. That jawline and slender bone structure. Those big doe eyes and erratic, messy brown hair.

“...Hey gorgeous.”

Peter turned to look over at him so quickly that Wade worried the kid had hurt his neck. He seemed to be fighting an urge to cover his face, or back away. But he didn't. Peter swallowed, and moved a bit closer, “Are you- ... how are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“Never better.” Wade smiled. He always felt a bit sore and weird after he came back to life, but Pete didn't need to know that. “Waking up to you is kinda the best thing ever though, Petey-pie. Thanks for sticking around.”

The hero winced, “You _died_ , Wade. I couldn't just- ... I wasn't... I mean, I didn't want to leave you.” he paused again, before continuing, “I've never seen you die before.”

“Boring, huh?” the Merc grinned.

Peter let a small groan escape from the back of his throat, as he fell forward and burrowed his face into Wade's chest; his hands gripping the fabric of his costume tightly. “Don't joke...” the muffled reply came.

[Cute.] (SO cute!) {He actually gives a shit.} “I don't like watching you die. And I definitely don't like the lack of motor-mouth that comes with it.” Peter continued,

“Ha-fucking-ha.” Wade grinned, lifting his arms to wrap them loosely around Peter. “I'm fine. Really. Just kinda feels like going to sleep. I mean, it's painful at first... dying is, I mean. But waking up is fine.”

The kid didn't answer. But he did lay down beside Wade, almost partially on top of him – given where his face was buried. Content to just lie in silence (especially with his heart beating so fast the way it was) Wade stroked his hands up and down Peter's back in what he hoped was a comforting way.

“I've lost everyone... and everything I've ever cared about.” Peter finally spoke up.

Wade kept his mouth shut. [Quite the feat.] (Right?) {Shh, let him finish...}

“After the fire... I just... wanted to disappear. I kind of wish it had killed me.” he went on, “I'd been Spiderman for only a couple of months before it happened. I was sloppy. And some low-level scumbag managed to find out my identity. Lucky for me, he was stupid enough to want to satisfy his own personal beef with me... rather than sell me out to a higher bidder.” Peter swallowed, “So, he found out where I lived, and set my Aunt's house on fire. I couldn't save her... couldn't even save myself.”

The Merc's arms tightened around Peter again. “I healed faster than anyone else would have. I mean... it still took a while, but... still. The scarring wouldn't disappear. I though it was temporary. I thought my healing would keep going, and things would go back to normal, but... when I was discharged, I looked just as horrible as I had when I'd come in. It was humiliating.” the boy sighed again, “I had nowhere to go, and my friends couldn't stand to look at me. No one wanted to give me work, and landlords never returned my calls after any viewings. I was lost... and... angry...”

“I started going out on patrol again after I found that spot. At the warehouse, I mean.” Peter clarified as he continued, “I tracked down the sonofabitch who did this to me, and I- ...” Wade held his breath. “I killed him. I _killed_ someone, Wade. The first person ever.” he sobbed, body beginning to shake. “I was just so mad, and- ... it all just came out, y'know? Not being able to hurt the guy who'd shot my uncle Ben. Not being able to know my parents. Not being able to save Aunt May. I couldn't help it, I just... wanted to hurt him because he'd hurt me. This low-level nobody had made me look like this, and... I...”

Wade sat up, bringing Peter with him as he once again cradled him into his lap and arms.

“Hey.” he soothed, resting his cheek against the top of Peter's head, “You don't haveta keep going, baby boy. I get it. I mean... look who you're talking to. I understand revenge.”

Peter didn't answer. But he did clutch to Wade a little more.

“That guy deserved to die. And I know you've got a lovely little conscience and high moral-ground, but... I don't think anyone would've blamed you. No one _does_ blame you, I mean. I sure don't.” Wade explained awkwardly. “You're still a hero. You help hundreds and hundreds of people. You do what's right. And you deserve to be happy, Pete...”

He wasn't expecting the kiss.

Peter shot up so fast and before he knew it, Wade was being kissed hard. He hummed, tightening his arms around Peter's waist as the young hero gripped the sides of his face fiercely. Kissing Peter was better than he could have imagined; his lips were surprisingly soft, and fuck... he was a _good_ kisser. Technique wise.

They made out for about five solid minutes, before Wade broke it; head swimming a bit, as his eyes roamed over Peter's face. “Peter Parker... you're a gorgeous motherfucker, and sassy as all hell. And a huge nerd. And kinda stubborn. And you have this weird thing about trying not to kill anyone even if they attack you. But... I'm fuckin' over the moon for you.” he admitted. Peter's lowered gaze slowly trailed up to meet his. Peter looked skeptical; like he didn't know whether or not to take Wade seriously. “I mean it.” he said firmly. “I wanna spoil you, and feed you, and cuddle the shit outta you, and play video games and watch movies and keep you company for the rest of your life. You deserve, more than ANYONE in this stupid city, to be happy.”

Peter looked like he was about to cry again. Damn, those big doe eyes. Wade reached up and gently rubbed his thumbs along the hero's face. “Don't turn on the waterworks, baby boy. Here. I'll tell you a joke! ...What did the mathematician do when he was constipated?”

The younger man frowned, hesitantly smiling, “Uh... I don't know?”

“He worked it out with a pencil.” Wade finished with a straight face.

A beat passed, before Peter started laughing and shaking his head. “That's _disgusting_ ,” he giggled, slumping forward to thump his head against Wade's shoulder.

The Merc grinned, and hugged him close.

 

 

 

 

Wade made Peter move in two months later. He'd pushed immediately after they had started "officially banging" (Wade's words) - but Peter had wanted to take things slow. He'd lasted two months, God bless him, before he agreed to move his things into Wade's apartment. 

The Merc never thought he'd be into all that domestic-bliss crap that usually made him sick. But he loved spoiling Peter. He bought him all kinds of stuff with his "blood money" (Peter's words) and flew off the handle in violent rages if anyone so much as looked at Peter wrong while they were out shopping, doing groceries, or on a date. 

Peter's confidence was a slow, uphill battle. He rarely wore the mask around Wade, and had even started to be ok with going out in public. For the most part, he ignored the states (if any), but this was New York. Most people didn't even pay the couple any attention at all. Which allowed Wade to try and get his boyfriend out as much as possible to have some long overdue (and sometimes careless) fun.

And Peter loved him for that.

There would always be good days and bad days; days where they argued, days where feelings were hurt or their communication was off. Days where they laughed, and days where they just stayed quiet; barely exchanging two words, but anchoring one another with brief touches or an embrace.

But Wade was 100% convinced that getting to know Peter Parker - and getting to love him - was the best thing that has ever happened to him.

(Hands down!)

[Fuck yeah.]

 


	4. Boxes Final Thoughts

****{Are you serious? This is just a cop out ending. The author clearly doesn't know how to wrap this shit up.}

 

[She just kinda trailed off there...]

 

(She's pretty though.)

 

{Super pretty.}

 

[Guess we can let it slide.]

 

(You think she'll write more?)

 

{She better.}

 

[She will.]

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this in one sitting. That rarely happens (if ever). But I had this idea and couldn't let it go until I'd fulfilled my angst-with-a-happy-ending for the day. If it doesn't make sense, I apologize. Not beta read. Just written on a wing and a prayer. 
> 
> Featuring hot!Ryan-Reynolds-Wade and scarred-Andrew-Garfield-Peter. Wade is around 28-29ish, and Peter is 20.


End file.
